


It's Delicate

by sxldato



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, M/M, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, and honestly? Relatable, tldr sam cries in the shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14416077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: Sam and Max wind down after a hunt.





	It's Delicate

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Depression bingo square.... if that was unclear

Sam strips down to his underwear and crawls into bed when they get home, and Max is soon to follow. They’ll have to put the sheets in the laundry tomorrow morning; they’re both bloody and shining with sweat, and they’ve gotten it on the bed. But right now that doesn’t matter. 

“Are you okay?” Max asks.

“I dunno.” Sam buries his face in his pillow, inhaling the gentle scent of cotton. There’s a pressure building in his chest and he struggles to ignore it. 

The hunt was a little too bloody, a little too gruesome. He’d been elbowed in the eye and had barely escaped the socket shattering. Max is cut up and bleeding all over with a thick gash in his side. 

“Hey,” Max hums against the hollow of Sam’s throat, then mouths at the delicate skin there. “How about we get cleaned up, huh?” 

Max takes Sam by the hand and leads him to the adjacent bathroom, and the two of them step out of their underwear and into the shower. 

Sam keeps Max out of the spray to avoid hurting the wound, instead washing away the dirt and grime with a cloth. The water pelts Sam’s back; it’s stabilizing, but Sam still feels distant. It’s as if he’s touching Max through rubber gloves. 

Sam washes his hair while Max runs the soap bar over Sam’s body. He teases him around the hips and walks his fingers along Sam’s thighs. 

“I’ll put a bandage on your cut when we get out,” Sam says, not really paying attention to Max’s teasing and not really sure how to snap out of it.

“Worry about it later,” Max replies. 

When he kisses Sam it’s soft and hungry at the same time, and Sam shuts his eyes. Max closes the distance between them, pressing their chests together and continuing to kiss him in earnest. Sam wraps his arms around Max and digs his fingers into his hips. 

Sam knows where Max is going with this, and as much as his body is responding, he doesn’t want to go there. Not tonight. It’s usually a good way to unwind, and he trusts Max, but everything is all wrong and that pressure inside him has gotten worse. 

“You wanna?” Max says, on his tip toes and warm against Sam’s ear. 

Max is a good guy for asking, Sam thinks. He’s dealt with far too many not-so-good guys in the past. 

“I, uh.” Sam falters. The heat from the shower makes it hard to concentrate. “No.” 

Max pulls away, maybe a bit disappointed, but not resentful or bitter. “Okay,” he says. “Is it–”

“Not anything you did,” Sam reassures him. “I just… I don’t feel right.” 

Max stiffens with concern. “You did get hit pretty hard.” He pushes Sam’s hair back from his wounded eye, which had already begun to bruise rather spectacularly. “You feel concussion-y?” 

“No, it’s–” Hard to explain. And Sam is exhausted. And the pressure builds and builds. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Then like a dam breaking, the pressure releases. His eyes well with tears and he bows his head to rest it in the crook of Max’s neck. 

“It’s okay,” Max whispers. He cards his fingers through Sam’s wet hair. “I’m here, it’s okay…” 

Sam shudders, engulfed by the flood of emotion coursing through him. Water continues to hit his back. Max holds him tight, but any excitement in the two of them has died out now. Guilt pounds on Sam’s shoulders. What a way to kill the moment. 

“Sam, what’s wrong?” Max sounds desperate to help, but Sam’s mind draws up a big blank. He’s crying for no reason at all. Or for everything.

“It’s so much,” Sam manages finally. “It’s so much, all the time.” 

Max holds him until he stops crying, and by then their hands and feet have pruned. Sam pulls himself together as best he can, even though his best never seems to be good enough, and turns off the water. They dry each other off and Sam patches up Max’s wound with red and bleary eyes. 

“Is the bandage too tight?” Sam asks. “Am I hurting you?”

“It’s good,” Max says. He watches Sam, brows knit with worry. “What’s hurting you?” 

Sam pauses, looks up at him. “Nothing,” he lies. “I get overwhelmed sometimes, that’s all.”

“You know I don’t believe you for a second, right?” 

Sam smiles a little and secures the last bit of loose bandage with a piece of medical tape. “You’re all set,” he says. 

The blankets are more comforting when they return to bed, now that their skin is clean. 

“Here.” Sam draws Max closer to him, his spine flush to Sam’s chest. “Don’t want you putting pressure where you’re hurt.” 

“Sweet boy,” Max murmurs, and Sam kisses him behind his ear. “And you’re sure you don’t want to talk? You’re okay?” 

“Yeah,” Sam says. “I’m okay.”


End file.
